


Sick Like Me

by rei_c



Series: Cannibalism Aside (Samn) [24]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Caring John Winchester, Extremely Underage, Family, Family Feels, Jealousy, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Pet Names, Road Trips, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-25
Updated: 2016-01-25
Packaged: 2018-05-16 02:57:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5810959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rei_c/pseuds/rei_c
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first time Dean calls Sam 'sweetheart.'</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sick Like Me

**Author's Note:**

> I cannot even begin to stress how underage this is; Dean is ten and Sam is _five_ and there's no touching but there's planning for the future, so...

Sometimes Dean looks at other kids their age -- usually when he and Sam are on their way back from the library or the grocery store or any number of secondhand shops for jeans that don't have holes in the knees already like theirs do, thicker shirts for the winters, cheap books and kitchen supplies. He looks at them and he wonders if that's the kind of life they would have had if their mom hadn't died or their dad hadn't gone slightly crazy, if a demon had never walked into his brother's nursery in the middle of the night and pinned their mother to the ceiling, made her bleed, baptized his brother.

What they have, it's good. It's not all hunting and cheap hotel rooms and rundown apartments on edges of town. It's not all fighting, it's not all training, sometimes it's not even the feel of a knife in his hand or the way his cheeks get flash-flame burnt when Dad lets him light the fire over graves filled with bones and salt.

There's more to it than that. They're tighter than these other kids with their families; their unit, the three of them -- Dad, him, Sam -- might not have much but they have each other. They have the Impala and nights on the open road where Sam snuffle-snores in the backseat and Dad quizzes Dean on the constellations. They have impromptu picnics on the Gulf Coast and snowball fights in Maine and go sledding on pizza-pans in the Rockies. They've slept under the stars together and curled up in ramshackle cabins deep in the middle of isolated woods where deer frolic around them in the early-morning light. Dean's seen more of the country by ten than most people do their entire lives and he's seen it with Sam and Dad, the three of them, together. 

But the misdemeanors and the hunting and the felonies and the killing, they have that, too. Someday Sam's going to join them, take part in that aspect of their life, and Dean's never been quite sure how he feels about that future. On the one hand, he wants to keep Sam innocent and free of this pain and dirt and blood, but on the other, he wants Sam there, with him, with him and Dad, knife or gun in his hands and just as ruthless, just as lethal, feeling the same way Dean does about the heat of a spirit burning to nothing, the feel of a silver knife sliding through a were's neck like half-melted butter, the unrelenting strength of a wooden stake as it turns fangs to ash. 

At least, Dean hopes Sam's going to feel the same way. As much as Dean envies the other kids sometimes, he knows that he's not alone the way they all seem to be. He has Sam. He just hopes he always has Sam, every part of him in every way, especially when Sam's old enough to hunt with them, especially when Sam's old enough to -- 

Sam's five and he's so smart, has a mind that could take over the world even now, and he's so caring and giving -- at least towards Dean. Maybe someday they'll be more than brothers because who else is there in the world? There's only Sam for Dean and if he wants what he thinks his Dad and Mom had together, it'll only be with Sam, Sam with his fluffy hair, Sam with his hazel eyes, Sam with the slight downturn to his lips when he's looking at anything and everything other than Dean. 

Maybe that's what's wrong with him. Maybe the fact that he's ten and he's looking at his five-year-old brother and he's thinking _when I'm older, when Sammy's ready…_

And Dean knows it's wrong, knows he'd be taken away and locked in the deepest, darkest corner of the world if anyone else knew what he was thinking -- but he can't help it. It's cold and it's night and Dad's in one bedroom and Dean's in the other, sharing a bed with Sam, sharing a comforter and sheets and body warmth, pressing himself up to the line of Sam's back, breathing out and feeling his chest rub against the knobby stubs of Sam's spine. 

It'd be worth any number of things to have this forever. It'd be worth _everything_ to have Sam for the rest of their lives. He's sick, he knows it, sometimes even feels it -- especially when he thinks that the best thing that could ever happen would be if Sam ends up being sick, too, just as sick, sick in the same way. 

_Go t'sleep_ , Sam murmurs, yawning, and he pushes back against Dean, pulls Dean's arm over his side, laces his fingers in Dean's and keeps them at the level of his belly. _C'n hear you thinkin'._

_Sorry, sweetheart_ , Dean murmurs, and he dares -- breath skipping a beat, lips dry, pulse pounding -- to place a kiss on the smooth skin of Sam's neck. 

Sam hums, wriggles a little, says, _N'ver called me that b'fore. Like it_ , and goes back to sleep, probably didn't even really wake up all the way. 

Yeah. Maybe Sam'll end up being just as sick as him. Maybe Dean will be lucky enough to have this one thing go right for him -- even if the rest of the world would consider it the most twisted kind of wrong.


End file.
